Hiking trail on the Cleveland Way

The Strange Comfort of England

Nelly HeinzeErlebnis, 2026, Begegnungen, Culture Clash Leave a Comment

The Strange Comfort of England

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von Nelly Heinze
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31. Januar 2026

Cleveland Way

My name is Nelly, and at the beginning of 2025, I went to Newcastle, England, for a semester abroad. And to be honest, I felt at home right from the start. England never felt foreign to me. On the contrary, it was as if I had rediscovered something I had never really lost.

I loved the accent, the weather, the people, even the constant ‘sorry’ in the supermarket aisle. It just felt like home, just in a new and different way. I visited many cities: York, Edinburgh, Manchester and London, and each was beautiful in its own way. But what touched me most was not the city, but the countryside in between.

Cleveland Way

My name is Nelly, and at the beginning of 2025, I went to Newcastle, England, for a semester abroad. And to be honest, I felt at home right from the start. England never felt foreign to me. On the contrary, it was as if I had rediscovered something I had never really lost.

I loved the accent, the weather, the people, even the constant ‘sorry’ in the supermarket aisle. It just felt like home, just in a new and different way. I visited many cities: York, Edinburgh, Manchester and London, and each was beautiful in its own way. But what touched me most was not the city, but the countryside in between.

The spontaneous departure

A fellow student and I spontaneously decided to hike the Cleveland Way, a coastal trail between Whitby and Scarborough, for two days. We quickly booked accommodation, packed some snacks, and were on the train not long after. Three hours of travel, listening to music, chatting and that quiet excitement about finally seeing the sea.

Whitby welcomed us with wind, drizzle and that very special British grey.

Our Airbnb was located on a hill, further away than we had expected, of course, so we finally arrived with full backpacks, empty stomachs and slightly annoyed. But the flat was perfect: small, with bay windows, old-fashioned and cosy. I remember thinking, 'This is so British, it almost hurts – and I love it.'

In the evening, we walked through the town, stood on the coast, watched the seagulls and listened to the sound of the sea. It smelled of salt and rain, and I felt strangely at home. It wasn’t a touristy ‘wow’ moment, but rather a quiet ‘yes, I can just be here’.

Travelling between sky and sea

We set off early the next morning. The sun was just rising above the horizon as we climbed the first steep steps. This view back towards Whitby was incredible: the sea, the cliffs, the light. I think that was the moment I understood why I liked England so much: because it's honest. It's not a perfect postcard image, but a place that simply embraces its rugged beauty.

Our route took us along the coast. Wind, meadows, sheep, and a few scattered hikers. Sometimes we walked in silence, sometimes we talked about all sorts of things. We stopped in Robin Hood’s Bay, had something to eat and watched the world go by. It was busy, lively, friendly and yet peaceful.

Then we continued towards Ravenscar. The climb was exhausting, the wind relentless, and at some point, we just laughed because everything was too much and too beautiful at the same time. When we reached the top, I was exhausted, but I was also happy. I looked down at the sea and felt like I had arrived, not at a place, but within myself.

View towards Robin Hood's Bay
One of many sheeps on the Cleveland Way and in the UK
    Beach of Scarborough
    View of Scarborough Castle
    Cleveland Way

      Scarborough, Storms and sandwiches

      We had ourselves driven to Scarborough, a town peculiar in its own way. Old, run-down, and a little bleak. We had wanted to go out for a meal, but ended up at Domino’s. However, the sales assistant was so unhygienic that we were tempted not to eat anything at all. But hunger won out, as it always does.

      The next morning began rainy. Nevertheless, we set off. We walked barefoot along the beach, laughed, froze, got wet to the bone, and it was great. The wind whipped, but somehow it felt like a conversation between me and this country: You give me wind, I give you perseverance.

      Later, we met an elderly couple who joked about the weather as if it were an old friend. And that’s exactly how England felt for me: a little grumpy, but with a heart of gold.

      When we eventually arrived back in Ravenscar and no one was there to pick us up, we just kept walking. To the next bus stop. Another five kilometres through rain, storm, mud and moors. We were wet, tired and happy. And when we finally sat on the bus back to Whitby and watched the landscape pass by, I knew that these two days would remain in my memory forever.

      Scarborough, Storms and sandwiches

      We had ourselves driven to Scarborough, a town peculiar in its own way. Old, run-down, and a little bleak. We had wanted to go out for a meal, but ended up at Domino’s. However, the sales assistant was so unhygienic that we were tempted not to eat anything at all. But hunger won out, as it always does.

      The next morning began rainy. Nevertheless, we set off. We walked barefoot along the beach, laughed, froze, got wet to the bone, and it was great. The wind whipped, but somehow it felt like a conversation between me and this country: You give me wind, I give you perseverance.

      Later, we met an elderly couple who joked about the weather as if it were an old friend. And that’s exactly how England felt for me: a little grumpy, but with a heart of gold.

      When we eventually arrived back in Ravenscar and no one was there to pick us up, we just kept walking. To the next bus stop. Another five kilometres through rain, storm, mud and moors. We were wet, tired and happy. And when we finally sat on the bus back to Whitby and watched the landscape pass by, I knew that these two days would remain in my memory forever.

      Beach of Scarborough
      View of Scarborough Castle
      Cleveland Way

        Aftermath

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        I don’t think I experienced ‘strangeness’ on this hike, but rather the opposite. I was in a different country, but none of it felt foreign. The wind, the rain, the language, the landscape – everything suited me in its own way.

        Later, when I was back in Newcastle, I realised that I couldn’t get this place out of my head. So, I simply turned it into a story. In my book, a psychological thriller, a group of friends find themselves hiking in exactly this landscape. A completely different plot, but the same atmosphere. The same vastness, the same wind. Maybe even the same quiet peace I found there.

        Picture of a city

        England was never ‘abroad’ for me.

        It was just a different place that immediately felt right.

        And sometimes that’s the most beautiful form of foreignness, when you arrive somewhere and realise: I’ve been here a little bit all along.

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